


Punch Drunk

by FallOfTheMighty



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Getting paid to kick your boyfriends ass, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mixed Martial Arts, mild Blood and Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 12:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallOfTheMighty/pseuds/FallOfTheMighty
Summary: Kuroo and Bokuto, a couple, are both champions in separate weight classes of the UFC. With Kuroo bitter and jealous at how much more work he has to put in to succeed at the same level as Bokuto, he moves up a weight class to beat some work ethic in to him. With their relationship tested by shit-stirring journalists, meddling agents, and the wall that is having to beat up your boyfriend, the pair find themselves fighting for more than just championships.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the companion fanart for this fic! https://blomozz.tumblr.com/post/181227731122/and-heres-my-second-work-for-this-years-hqbb

“Hey. Hey. Wake up. Get out of fucking bed, Kou. It’s gym time.” Kuroo gently shakes Bokuto in bed before getting progressively more aggressive. Bokuto remains unresponsive, not willing to shed the warmth of his sheets, amplified by the crack of sunlight breaking through the curtains and shining brightly on his blanket-covered body. In about fifteen minutes the sunlight would shift towards his face and blind him enough to merit either getting out of bed or rolling on to Kuroo’s side of the bed, still a little warm, and with a comforting scent of his boyfriend any time he buried his face into the pillow.

“My body is a temple and it needs sleep. Leave me alone. It’s Saturday.”

“Your body is going to be a world famous temple ruin if you laze your ass off and don’t hit the gym with me. And it’s Sunday. Get it together, Kou. We don’t get paid to be lazy, and we don’t get paid at all if you’re overweight. So get the hell up!” Kuroo pulls the sheets off of Bokuto, but it doesn’t even slightly faze him. He pretends nothing has changed, and the heat from the crack of sunlight keeps him cosy enough. “Okay, I’m getting a bucket of water.”

“I’m awake! I’m awake…” Bokuto is threatened into following Kuroo’s orders and he sits up instantly with more energy than he reckoned he even had at this time of the morning. It was 7am and the gym awaited. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant start to the day when not in the mindset to want to exert effort like that. Rolling away out of the beam of sunshine made him realize how freezing he was in just his boxers. He heads straight to the wardrobe to don his gym clothes, still bemoaning being abruptly woken up.

“You’ve gotta keep routine. Slack off one day and you’ll be motivated to slack off the next. We’re world class athletes, Kou, you know this. We have personal trainers and coaches who won’t let us break routine anyway.”

“Routine sucks! Don’t you get bored of routine? You’re already an undefeated champion. Nobody’s ever going to touch you in the welterweight division. You’re 17-0! Nobody’s got a streak that long right now. I don’t even have 17 fights, let alone 17 unbeaten wins in a row. Doesn’t it get boring?”

“I get paid a lot of money for routine. I’m a draw, baby. The pay-per-view buys when I’m on screen shoot up. If routine keeps writing my paychecks, making me a star, making me the greatest BJJ fighter of all time, making me a UFC future hall of famer, then I love routine. I have a title and maybe the reason you don’t is because of motivation.” Kuroo’s choice words for Bokuto incite him.

“The only reason I don’t have a title is because of behind the scenes shit! There’s a reason I’m the interim champion. All I have to do is beat the next person that they put in front of me and I’ll finally have my championship. Don’t act like it’s to do with me. I may not be undefeated but I’m still on a 6 fight winning streak against top guys. Nobody’s going to stop me from winning gold. I don’t need to be some motivation freak to have a shot.” Kuroo had struck a nerve. Bokuto’s tone was laden with venom and a little jealousy at Kuroo being somewhat more of an acclaimed fighter. Bokuto himself was a credible fighter, and not just anybody gets to be the number one contender for the championship. Still, he had no championships on his waist, and Kuroo did. His 14-2 record spoke for itself, but titles speak a lot louder.

“There’s no more dragons left to slay, Tetsu. The division is yours. I can’t believe you’re one of those fighters that is happy to settle for money and not the love of fighting itself. I thought you weren’t like that. We’ve been together for two years and you’ve never made it be about money and reputation before. What changed? I really hope you’re not letting success get to your head.” Bokuto had every right to be concerned. It wasn’t atypical in the world of fighting for somebody to let confidence get the better of them, ruin their unbeaten streak, and never recover. Said fighters fade into obscurity, never reclaiming championships, sometimes only headlining B-tier fight cards. It was a devastating downward spiral that ends careers, screws around with mental health, and most importantly, kills peoples love of the sport. If that were to happen to Kuroo, Bokuto had no idea what he would do.

“It’s too early to fight over things like this. We need to go to the gym and do it now before this argument gets a little too heated. I don’t want to kill my buzz when I’m in the mindset to bust my ass off and vent all my frustrations into some weights. Okay?” Kuroo was having none of it. While he had struck a nerve with Bokuto and incited an impassioned response, Bokuto doing the inverse just made Kuroo want to deflect away from the issue and sort it out at a later date. Kuroo was right, however. At least if he was incensed he’d be working harder at the gym.

“178 pounds. Man, I still have weigh to cut. I reckon once I drop water weight in the sauna I still have another 2 or 3 pounds left to drop.” At 170 pounds cut off, Kuroo’s welterweight division was one of the tougher ones to make weight for. Especially for a man as tall as Kuroo. His height made it difficult to keep his frame below 170 while still remaining toned enough to put power behind his moves. He had a particularly strict regimen to keep his body fat percentage as low as healthily possible to make weight. Some say that Kuroo’s dominance at a lower weight class is only because of his size and mental fortitude to keep his weight inside it at all times, and that if he were to move up a weight class, he may have more problems against fighters of a similar stature with an extra 15 pounds to work with. Kuroo steps off the scales at the gym and makes way for Bokuto to follow suit and weigh himself. He strips off his shirt, throws it at Kuroo, and steps on to the scales.

“You don’t need to be this obsessive with making weight for the division when you don’t even have a new fight contracted. Hell, you have doors open. Gain 7 pounds and you can fight in my division. Think of the money you’d draw trying to become a two class champion.” Bokuto didn’t envision himself planting the seeds of doubt into Kuroo’s mind. While it was true that Kuroo was at a nice intermediate weight to move up a weight class, or cut weight to fit his own, he wasn’t intentionally trying to make Kuroo shift divisions.

“What, so I can kick your ass? No thanks.” Kuroo says the first thing that comes to mind once the topic is brought up in an attempt to deflect away from it. It was true. If Kuroo were to step up a weight class, Bokuto was the interim champion. If Kuroo was to become a two class champion, he would have to fight Bokuto. He didn’t fancy the idea all that much. Whether it was because he didn’t want to have to hurt his boyfriend, or if it was because his own ego told him that he didn’t want to embarrass his boyfriend, he had little intention of doing the fight, and as such, never entered the weight class.

“186 pounds. I need to bulk up.” Bokuto catches his shirt as Kuroo tosses it back to him and slips it back on. Bokuto’s weight division, middleweight, had a 185 pound cutoff point. His division was full of a mix of more technical fighters, with a few heavy hitters. Bokuto was at an average height for the division, but he always kept his build stocky enough to have serious power in his kicks and punches. Knowing full well he would drop several pounds of water weight before any fight, he had grounds to try and add some more mass to his body and still be able to easily make weight. It was a recurring trend between Kuroo and Bokuto. While Kuroo would always just barely make weight by keeping himself as toned and defined as possible, Bokuto would always be adding mass to make weight. Perhaps it was symbolic of their different levels of motivation, or perhaps it was just their body types and their choices on which division to fight in. Bokuto could realistically make the light heavyweight division, and his fighting style would suit it. He may have a hard time with fighters hitting a lot harder, taking energy out of him and neutering the power behind his strikes, but he would be able to cope and be a competent, highly ranked fighters, just like if Kuroo went up to Bokuto’s middleweight class.

“If you’re going to bulk up again, at least do it healthily this time. I don’t want you to spend several weeks eating like garbage then saying you’ll just convert it all to muscle and that’ll solve all your problems.” Kuroo recalls Bokuto’s intermittent history of sensible, professional management of his weight for his career.

“What works, works.” Bokuto takes a drink of water and heads towards the gyms power rack with the intent of working on his legs with some squats. The harder he could kick, the more inclined he would be to win a fight. It was his specialty.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we’re both right. Maybe you really do need somebody to come up a weight class and kick your ass to remind you that it isn’t always that easy and that the moment you slip up, somebody’s coming for you.” Kuroo’s words draw Bokuto on to putting his weights back up and pausing his routine.

“What are you insinuating?”

“I only have to bulk up 7 pounds in maybe 3 or 4 months and I’d be eligible to come in and kick your ass.” Kuroo smirks. He fully believes his words. Kuroo convinces himself that he could beat Bokuto, even with Bokuto having the advantage of experience and weight, just because Bokuto was somewhat lazy as a professional, while he was strict and regimented.

“Yeah, good luck with that. Try getting your agent to talk to the president and see how much he likes the idea of somebody just waltzing in to the division for an interim title fight. You gotta work your way up, Kuroo. It’s not that easy. You’ll ruffle a lot of feathers if you just stroll in to my division and jump the queue with all the other hard working fighters behind me.” Bokuto, just moments ago, had been professing that he could see Kuroo as a two weight class champion, and now he was demanding he get to the back of the queue and work his way to the top. Kuroo was getting vibes that Bokuto was talking big and was actually somewhat afraid of him. The reality was Bokuto just flip flopped on his words because he was just a little bit clueless at times. He thought long after he spoke.

“You sound scared.”

“Scared of what? The only thing I have to be scared of is you risking your career against several fighters below me just to prove a point. I don’t want you to lose your acclaim to some no-name fighter in my division in a desperate attempt to make it to the top.”

“You were literally encouraging me to do just that two minutes ago!” Kuroo rolls his eyes and struggles to keep his composure around Bokuto’s incessant backtracking. “I’m going to call my agent right now. I’m going to ask about changing divisions. I’m going to get the whole publicity team in on this. I’ll get Kenma and the rest of my coaching team to make me the best damn convert the middleweight division has ever seen, and you can bet your ass that within a year I’ll be handing you your ass on a silver platter while I hold my damn championship to the crowd as the biggest deal this sport’s ever seen!”

“At least give yourself some time to think it over. Don’t just rush in to this because you want to beat some motivation in to me.” Suddenly, Bokuto became the voice of reason rather than backpedaling and poor judgement. It just incensed Kuroo further.

“You have no idea how much I want this.”

“You didn’t even want it when I brought it up ten minutes ago!” Kuroo stormed to the changing room without paying much attention to Bokuto’s parting words. Bokuto groaned to himself and in his fired up state went back to hitting weights. Kuroo’s drive was going to be his undoing, and Bokuto just knew it.

“So I talked to the president and I’ve got some good news, and some bad news that could be construed as good news depending on the mood you’re in right now.” Kuroo had made plans to meet up with his agent and long time friend Kai over drinks and food at a local beer garden. Since Kuroo had moved to America from Japan to pursue his MMA career, it had become one of his preferred social gathering spots. Despite his strict and regimented lifestyle, he could always find room to socialize over a few drinks. It was his one vice which he wouldn’t kick, whereas ironically, Bokuto, who he would constantly criticize for his lifestyle choice, would stay sober. As a relatively well known sportsman in this stage of his career, he found himself sitting with a hat and sunglasses on. The pair nestled in to a quiet corner away from the public eye. It had, however, originally been Kai’s idea, owing to the fact he reckoned that such big career moves were matters best left to discussion in person rather than over the phone. Kuroo would just choose the location, to absolutely zero surprise from Kai.

“Lay it on me.” Kuroo swirled around the beer glass in his hand, waiting for the news to hit before he decided if he was going to drink it all in one go or not.

“So, good news. President thinks having you change divisions is a huge money draw. He’s already got a plan for your first fight. Completely supportive of every single aspect of the switch, wants a press conference next week, big announcement, lots of journalists. The whole shebang. The want to market this to hell and back.” Kai waits for a response from Kuroo before divulging the rest of the news. Kuroo raises an eyebrow, unsure of what could be deemed bad-but-possibly-good news after that.

“Just get it out of the way. What’s the downside.”

“Well, it’s not necessarily a downside, like I said.” Kai takes a few large sips of his drink, almost as if he wants to stall the moment. “You know Bokuto’s next fight? The guy fucked up a tendon in his ankle or something, I don’t know the finer details. He had to pull.”

“And they-”

“Yeah, and they want your first fight to be against Bokuto filling in for him. So bad news, trial by fire, you have to face the interim champion for your first fight and you’ve only got about 2 months to prepare instead of the usual 3 or 4. Good news is that you just shot the pay per view buy rates into 7 figures, and once we hit this press conference, the buzz about this event is going to be off the charts. You took a mediocre card and turned it into the fight of the year.” Kai finishes off his drink and slams it back down the table. He has a wry smile on his face knowing that the agent fee he’ll make from a fight this big is going to set him up for the rest of the year. It was all good news to him, nothing could go wrong.

“I’m fighting Bokuto?” Kuroo sounds almost in disbelief. He really did get to jump the queue. He couldn’t wait to tell Bokuto the news that he was about to get destroyed.

“Yep. Contract signing will be after the press conference and once an agreement is made with Bokuto’s agent. He probably already made the call so expect things to be a little tense when you get home.” Kai snickers to himself but Kuroo doesn’t see the humour in it. He’s too focused on proving himself right and a fire was ignited inside of him, spurring him on.

“Right now I don’t think I want to go home and share the news. I feel like Bokuto doesn’t want this fight and I don’t want to be there to influence him.” Kai’s eyes widen as Kuroo speaks. The concept of Bokuto not wanting the fight would cost everyone involved a lot of potential money. Kuroo didn’t seem to care that much about the financial aspect, but Kai sure did.

“If he doesn’t want the fight maybe you should be there to talk him into it? There’s a lot at stake here. You both benefit from this.” Kai taps his fingers impatiently on the side of his empty glass, clasping it a little harder than he was before.

“Let’s just let him get on with it himself. I don’t want to force him to fight me if it makes him uncomfortable. As much as I want it, both parties have to agree.”

“You’re right!” Kai shouts out excitedly. “Both parties have to agree. Or else. Right?” Kai sounded awfully menacing, getting in to business mode and the shady side of agency was starting to rise up out of him.

“Or else?”

”He loses his interim championship if he doesn’t take the fight. You have to fight the top contender or you lose your position. That’s in the UFC rules. He either forfeits or he fights.” Kai felt his words were winners knowing that Bokuto was now forced in to a lose/lose position. Kuroo seems angered. He stands up, slaps a wad of cash on to the table and leaves in a rush. He needed to speak to Bokuto right now.

For a usually reliable agent, Kai had trapped Bokuto in a way that made Kuroo uncomfortable and he wasn’t going to let him make a decision this big by himself. All things considered, Bokuto’s career was put in jeopardy solely for Kuroo’s gain, and it was dawning on him what his desire to change divisions was doing. His actions had ramifications on Bokuto and that was the last thing he wanted. Sure, he wanted to fight, but he didn’t want it to be a case where Bokuto is fighting more for survival than for the spirit of competition.

A confrontation was needed and it was needed quickly, before Bokuto made any kind of decision by himself. He was liable to putting his heart before his head, and the last thing Kuroo needed was Bokuto to lose his interim championship, and for himself to immediately be stranded in a division he only joined for Bokuto, only to find Bokuto not there.

The front door to their home was unlocked once Kuroo had returned home in a rushed panic. The lights were all on, the usual sounds of television in the background filled the room, all seemed normal. Kuroo stalks his way around the house trying to find Bokuto. First, the sitting room, nobody there. He tries the kitchen, still nothing. Bedroom, no sign of Bokuto. Fed up and wanting to get straight to his apologies for the situation he had forced Bokuto in to, he simply yells out his name and waits for a response. After a brief pause he put down to Bokuto not realizing he was home, he gets a response.

“I’m in the shower give me five minutes.”

It was a nonchalant reply from a menial activity. Kuroo’s head had built up the idea that Bokuto was going to be dejected and alone in their bedroom wailing about some perceived form of betrayal.

Bokuto eventually emerges wrapped up in a towel. The domesticity of their lives together was not yet at a point where he would appear entirely unrobed before his boyfriend. With a smile on his face, he is met with a worried looking Kuroo.

“Are you ok, Kou?”

“Yeah?” Bokuto was perplexed, which in turn perplexed Kuroo.

“My agent told me that you got the call about our fight. He said you were forced to accept or else you forfeit your interim championship.”

“Well duh. I can’t just refuse fights.” Bokuto sits himself down on the edge of the bed after grabbing a hairdryer. “But nobody told me I had a fight with you officially. When’s the date? Weird for them to book a fight when I already have one scheduled.” He turns on the hairdryer and starts casually blow-drying. It was dawning on Kuroo that he had over-dramatized the situation. Bokuto hadn’t even heard the news that his next opponent had pulled due to injury, and yet here Kuroo was terrified of breaking news to him, only to be met with Bokuto half naked and caring more about his hair than updates on his career.

“Your opponent is hurt and I’m filling in for him.”

“What?” The sound of a hairdryer in his immediate vicinity deafened Bokuto from anything Kuroo was saying to him.

“I said I’m filling in for your next fight.”

“I can’t-” Kuroo snatches the hairdryer from Bokuto’s hand and turns it off.

“Pay attention. Your next opponent is injured. I’m filling in for him. Your next fight is against me. Everything is sorted out on my end. Seeing as it’s late, your agent will probably call you tomorrow to negotiate. Then there’ll be a press conference, contract signing, all the usual formalities, and then in two months I’ll kick your ass and become champion.”

Bokuto pauses for a moment, suspending the moment in an extended silence, with Kuroo waiting for whatever negative response he was about to get.

“Sick.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sick.” Kuroo’s jaw goes slack at Bokuto’s casual response. The scenario in his head was a lot more negative than what was actually transpiring. He was certain Bokuto was going to be angry or upset or show any kind of emotion other than just ‘sick’.

“You were so adamant before. You kept telling me not to piss off a bunch of people by cutting the queue. You were saying you don’t want me to risk my career trying to make this happen. You talked me into it, then tried to talk me right out of it the moment I started taking it seriously. And all you can give me is a one word answer?” Ironically, Kuroo was the one getting emotional over the situation when he had come in composed and anticipating Bokuto’s emotions to be running wild.

“Well you’re not risking your career against other fighters. And you’re only filling in for one fight because of an injury. Sounds like pretty ideal circumstance to me. Everybody wins. Except you. I’m going to kick your ass and win. But that’s the only way anyone is going to lose here.” Bokuto snatches his hairdryer back out of Kuroo’s hand and finishes off the job.

“So that’s it. That’s really it. It was that easy. What the fuck? It shouldn’t be that easy.” Kuroo’s disbelief starts slowly building up as reality dawns on him.

“Can’t wait. Sucks that I’m gonna lose my training buddy though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well if we’re fighting each other there’s not a fuckin’ chance in hell I’m letting you near me while I train. I’m not giving you any advantage.”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah! I wasn’t going to let you train near me either. I totally thought about that. Crossed my mind for sure.” Kuroo’s brain was frazzled by the complete u-turn the situation had taken.

“I guess all the contracts will be written up in the next few days, we can sign, and the hard work can start. Too bad I’ve already been prepping for a fight and you’ve just been prepping for nothing. I’ve already got a head start on you. That’s what you get for not having fights booked. Can’t laugh at my lack of work ethic now, huh?” Kuroo’s work ethic was always going to let him catch up to whatever head start Bokuto may have had. Besides, he would have been training with another fighter in mind. In reality, Kuroo was starting on a blank slate while Bokuto had had weeks of training immediately thrown down the drain. He was simply too proud, and perhaps a little too oblivious to realize it.

“Once I put my name on the dotted line, you can bet your ass I’m going to hand it right back to you on a silver platter.” Kuroo finally relaxes to the situation, bringing in his playful trash-talk now that it was clear nobody was anywhere near as stressed and emotional as he had predicted.

“Bring it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Kenma throws a newspaper down on a table where Kuroo is enjoying his lunch. There’s an unusual amount of venom in the action that causes Kuroo to stop what he’s doing and shoot a confused stare towards Kenma.

“Weigh in tomorrow. Biggest fight of the calendar year. What are the media saying?” Kenma aggressively opens the newspaper and flicks through the pages to get to the small journalistic representation their sport gets, reporting a run-down of the upcoming show. “How the UFC’s power-couple turns card of the year in to farce of the year.”

Kuroo has no response as he processes what he’s hearing. He wasn’t one to concern himself with what the media would report, and had kept himself focused on the fight and in his own little bubble away from the words of the press.

Kenma, seeing Kuroo seems to have nothing to say in response, continues reading through the article aloud.

“In what many are calling the biggest show of the UFC calendar year, the main event has been short of the usual fireworks we have come to expect between big name title fight contenders. Ever since an injury thrust Kuroo Tetsurou into the main event, the buzz around the fight has been low. As the UFC promotes the event as a supercard between two weight division champions, their marketing team has been given precious little content to work with. Perhaps this was to be expected; Kuroo and Bokuto, as perhaps the most well known couple in the sport, bring no drama to the table. In a sport driven by bitter rivalries and a sense of genuine competition, we are marketed a ‘fight of the year’ between two individuals who leap at the opportunity to take a hefty payday without any of the intensity and integrity the sport has come to be known for. How are we, as viewers, expected to have a genuine desire to witness a combat sport contest between two men without an ounce of credible desire to combat with one another? The sanctioning of this fight is a kick in the teeth to viewers expecting to see anything but two fighters who no doubt will rather spend half the fight circling or in guard, playing for a decision. This Saturday’s card is-”

“Stop. Just stop. I’ve heard enough.” Kuroo swats the newspaper away from Kenma. “It’s just one journalist.”

“It isn’t. Everywhere people think this is going to be a fight that you both half ass. You need to do something at the weight in tomorrow to add at least a little legitimacy to the fight.”

“I’ll let actions speak louder than words. You know I’ve spent the last couple of months training knowing full well I’m going to give everything I have to this. You know I want to make a point to Bokuto that he needs to stop slacking off before he gets his ass kicked. If I have to be the one to do it, I’m going to be the one to do it.”

“Good luck with that plan.” Kenma sits himself down next to Kuroo, hushing his voice and trying to keep an already tense Kuroo a little less on edge. “If this fight tanks interest-wise, it’s going to look bad for both of you. You don’t want to get shithoused by the president because all the hype around you is getting killed off. I don’t care if you fake it, just try to build up some kind of buzz. Anything. If you want to beat some hard work in to Bokuto, say it at the weigh in.”

“I’m not going to purposefully strain my relationship with Bokuto for a quick payday.”

This was a matter of principle to Kuroo. Everything else was going to come second to him giving Bokuto the fight of his life. If the end goal wasn’t to teach Bokuto a lesson, he wouldn’t have bothered moving weight classes in the first place. All the stress of trying to make weight, training to best neuter Bokuto’s fighting style, and to make sure he wasn’t going to just embarrass himself in a higher division was not going to be for cash, publicity or status. Being the best at what he does was what Kuroo always strove to be, and he wanted Bokuto to avoid complacency and make sure that he did the same. If it meant sacrificing one of their impressive win streaks, then so be it.

“You don’t have to make artificial drama. Just speak the truth. You want to beat regiment into Bokuto.”

“A very public, very televised event is the last place I need to remind Bokuto why I wanted this in the first place. He knows that. I don’t need to make a scene where everyone is watching. This is between me and him.”

“This is sports entertainment, Kuroo. This beef is between you, him, and the cameras. That’s why they have these televised weigh-ins with a strong media presence. If you’re going to use your job to knock some sense into Bokuto, part of your job is selling it to people. You’re just making everyone involved look worse if you don’t. If people angrily expect nothing, they’re going to tell themselves that they got nothing no matter what you do in the octagon.”

Kenma’s points were valid. They were in the business of showmanship and personal drama was the name of the game. The fact he was trying to keep it to himself was exemplifying just how seriously he was taking his job, yet he was taking it so seriously he was losing sight of what his job actually entailed.

“Look, Kuroo. You’re going to do more damage by doing nothing than you ever could in the octagon. You win, then what? You piss people off to the point of not wanting to see you as a champion or see you fight. You make Bokuto do the same only he isn’t even in a position of power because he loses his interim championship. You lose and you’re made to look like a clown and Bokuto gets nothing but another paycheck. Or, you use the weigh in and the press conference to drum up some interest, add a layer of legitimacy to the fight, whoever wins is seen as a deserving champion and whoever loses doesn’t take a big hit to their stock because they went out fighting in a serious contest. Everyone wins. Just lie for the press conference if you have to. Tell Bokuto in advance you’re going to fake it. Entertain the masses.”

Kenma was taking a break from his usual duties of being Kuroo’s trainer to act like his agent. Really, the plan was a solid one. Nobody had to know he was telling lies at the weigh in. The media buzz was low enough that their every move wasn’t being scrutinized. No fact checking would take place. All it would take is a little bit of believable acting and some compliance from Bokuto.

“I guess I can fake it.”

A phone buzzes inside Akaashi’s pocket.

“Five minute rest, Bokuto. We’ll get back in to high kick practice once I take this.”

Bokuto collapses in an exhausted heap on the floor. He spaces out in his brief moments of recovery from his high intensity workouts. He wasn’t used to pushing himself this hard so close to the date of a fight, but if Kuroo wanted to fight Bokuto, beat him, and prove he wasn’t the fighter he thought he was, he wanted to make sure it was as hard as it could possibly be. The irony that he was working harder to prove to Kuroo that he doesn’t need to work harder was lost on him.

“Kuroo wants to talk to you. He says it’s more important than staying separate for the sake of keeping training routines secret from each other.” Akaashi sticks out his hand holding his phone towards Bokuto, but Bokuto is still spaced out and lying in a heap on the floor. It takes a moment to click that he’s being talked to, sits back up, tries to calm his breathing and takes the line.

“What’s up?”

“Bokuto, have you seen what the media are saying about the fight?”

“Who gives a crap about the media?”

“Everyone is saying the fight is a joke because we love each other too much to fight seriously.” This piqued Bokuto’s interest. It was the first time in his career he could recall one of his fights being billed as anything but an explosive slug-fest and a potential fight of the night candidate.

“Tell the media I’m gonna kick you in the face until you bleed so much you go right back down to welterweight. That’ll get them going.” Bokuto laughs to himself expecting the same response from Kuroo. Instead he’s met with sincerity.

“That’s kind of the point. We need to trash talk at the weigh in tomorrow. Kenma was right. The fight’s going to suck unless we fake some drama.” Kuroo had bought in entirely to the idea Kenma had planted in his head that the only positive way forward was with a little manufactured tension.

“What do you mean Kenma was right? What the hell are you talking about? Since when do you care about the media?” Bokuto throws questions at Kuroo thick and fast.

“We’re both gonna look like crap no matter what happens if we don’t do something!”

“Nobody’s going to look like crap so long as somebody kicks the other persons ass. Calm down, man. I’ll see you at the weigh in tomorrow. I’m a little busy with some last minute training right now to focus on what the media is or isn’t saying. Ciao.”

“Bokuto!” Bokuto hangs up and tosses the phone back to Akaashi. He stands up, hops around in place a little and does some stretches.

“Alright, back to training.”

Akaashi shrugs his shoulders, deeply confused by what the hell had just occurred, dons some kickboxing training pads, and he and Bokuto return to putting the finishing touches on their training.

Surrounded by fellow members of his training team, Kuroo finds himself oddly at peace come the weigh in. Regardless of whether or not Bokuto was going to comply, Kuroo had rehearsed in his head his plans to tear down Bokuto for all to see. He sits down in front of the media, Kuroo to the right and Bokuto to the left with a podium in the middle, on which the president stands with a microphone.

“We’ll now be taking questions.” He opens the floor for the journalists. The first one is chosen and looks towards Kuroo.

“Some fans speculate that this fight may be taken with caution thanks to your relationship with Bokuto. What are your thoughts on that?” The media had immediately played in to Kuroo’s trap. He had his response lined up and ready to go immediately.

“Don’t think a damn thing about our relationship going in to this fight. We’re barely on speaking terms. We’ve been training separately. We’ve hardly interacted with each other. I tried to call him last night and he just hung up on me. I took this fight because I know Bokuto is half-assing his career in a division where he hasn’t had a single credible threat. I bust my ass off for every single fight, and what does he do? He barely makes weight, he barely trains, and he gets a free pass because his division doesn’t have the quality that mine does. Well, I’m going to knock his damn lights out and show him what real competition looks like. Maybe then he’ll start realizing how hard a professional fighter is supposed to bust his ass to be the best in the world like I am!”

Bokuto was taken entirely aback by Kuroo’s words. What was originally planned as a rehearsed fire-fueling for the fight became a deeply impassioned rant. Kuroo was serious, and it made Bokuto deeply uncomfortable. He wasn’t aware that Kuroo was going to go off on him like that, even if he had been warned the night before that he planned to throw some drama in the mix. He had no idea it was going to be so vicious and from the heart.

“Bokuto, any truth to Kuroo’s words?”

“I, uh, I guess I did hang up on him last night. And I guess we have been separate for most of the last few months..”

Bokuto’s hesitancy and lack of clarity in his words was immediately pounced upon by the now frenzied media.

“So you two are separated now?”

“Are you two going to set your differences aside in the octagon?”

“I’m going to put Bokuto to sleep and show this division what a real champion looks like!”

“Kuroo…”

As the stirred media begin to cease following the structure of the press conference, the president calls an end to question asking and begins the process for the weigh in.

First Kuroo heads to the scale, strips down in to his fighting shorts, steps on, and the measurement is taken. The media and the fans in attendance cheer as Kuroo makes weight for the first time in his new division. Bokuto follows suit, and the crowd is equally as pleased that he has made weight. The title fight is on.

As per tradition, the press conference ends with a brief photography opportunity where the pair have a stare-down and often strike a combative pose. It’s the first moment Kuroo and Bokuto have had face to face since Kuroo had given his scathing words to the press.

“You don’t really mean the stuff you’re saying, right Tetsu?” Bokuto whispers. He looks close to tears and he stares eye to eye with Kuroo.

“I’m going to knock you out.”

“Kuroo, come on, calm down. You’re not like this.” Bokuto’s attempt at trying to ease tensions is met with a damning silence from Kuroo.

Rather than strike a fighting pose for the cameras like would be the norm, Bokuto leans forward and pecks Kuroo on the cheek. Instead of getting the calming reaction he wanted, Bokuto’s misguided attempt at trying to calm the storm simply incited Kuroo further. He saw it as yet again Bokuto not taking their fight seriously, not taking his career seriously, and he snapped. Kuroo leaps at Bokuto, fists up, before a hoard of every single person in their immediate vicinity jumps in to try and split up the brawl. Kuroo is hauled away as Bokuto storms off with tears in his eyes, finding the nearest exit and getting the hell away as fast he could.

What it finally takes to make Kuroo realize the impact of his actions is Bokuto crying. As he sees Bokuto, misty eyed, and covering his face as he escapes the venue, his anger is soothed and his body relaxes. He freezes up as the group holding him back begin to loosen their grip. A rush of emotions washes over Kuroo. He tries to rush out the same exit that Bokuto had taken, but he was long gone by now. With his head-start there was no way Kuroo was going to even know which direction Bokuto had gone, let alone catch up with him. He resigns himself to waiting until later in the night to try and call Bokuto to apologize, but his attempts are futile. He’s left isolated and upset, and the next chance he’s going to have to see Bokuto is going to be in the octagon.

Fight Night was a lonely affair. Kuroo had arrived, been warming up in the locker room, getting himself prepared for the fight. He knew Bokuto was doing the same, he just wasn’t aware of what mental state he would be in going in to it. Last night he was distraught, but tonight he had no idea if he was going to expect a violent Bokuto to come at him harder than he could have anticipated, or if he’d be in a fragile state and easily beaten. All he could do was sit and wait as the undercard took place. All he could do was stay in silence until it was his turn to fight.

The walk to the octagon was lonely. Sure, he had his team by his side, and sure, he had tens of thousands of fans screaming and cheering as his music played, but in his head that was all irrelevant. His sole focus was on Bokuto, and he wasn’t there to put his mind to rest.

He arrives at the octagon. As per usual before any fight, his trainers quickly rub a coating of vaseline on his face to try and prevent his face from getting cut open and bleeding, potentially blinding him. He enters the octagon, stands in his corner, and waits for Bokuto’s music to hit.

The wait as Bokuto makes his walk to the ring was agonizingly slow. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or just his perception of time screwing with him. Eventually, Bokuto does hit the octagon, and without saying a word, stands in his corner as the ring announcer enters.

“The following contest is for the UFC Interim Middleweight Championship!”

The crowd erupts in to cheers, and neither Kuroo nor Bokuto seem at all fazed by it. Both stand firmly in their corner, occasionally making eye contact, and taking their focus away once they notice.

“First, in the red square. A Brazilian jiu jitsu fighter, with a professional record of 17-0. Fighting out of Tokyo, Japan: Kuroo Tetsurou!”

Again, the crowd erupts in to cheers. Kuroo skips out on the token acknowledgement of the crowd a fighter would normally give. His focus is elsewhere.

“And secondly, in the blue square. A kickboxer, with a professional record of 14-2. Fighting out of Tokyo, Japan, he is the UFC Interim Middleweight Champion: Bokuto Koutarou!”

Bokuto does acknowledge the crowd with a quick wave. The ring announcer introduces the referee for their contest, who gives the two the token rundown of the rules that they are to abide by for their contest.

“Now touch gloves.”

With that, the fight gets underway.

 

The pair circle each other around the centre of the octagon. Kuroo puts up a defensive stance as Bokuto begins to pressure him closer and closer to the edge of the cage. Bokuto lands an inconspicuous looking kick to the side of Kuroo’s knee just to keep him moving and force him in to action. Another kick to the side of the knee lands. Bokuto tries to get Kuroo to act, knowing that if he just stays in a defensive stance all fight, Bokuto will just continue to hit his knees until he’s too sore to stand up. Bokuto tries for the kick again, but Kuroo sees it coming and swiftly counters it, sidestepping it and landing a punch clean on Bokuto’s jaw, rattling him and forcing him to back up a few steps. Kuroo tries to keep the pressure on, but Bokuto dodges the follow-up punch and lands a huge right hand of his own. Kuroo stumbles, staggering too much to keep his defensive stance, and Bokuto immediately tries to capitalize and go in for the kill. He lands another fierce downward punch, knocking Kuroo on to his ass. He pounces on top of Kuroo looking to finish the fight quickly. Kuroo rolls out of the way and gets back to his feet, wobbly, but upright

“Stop hesitating! He’s going for it, why aren’t you?” Kenma’s usually subdued voice screams at Kuroo from his corner. Kuroo, having started the fight on the back foot, couldn’t afford to lose rounds so easily. If it were to go to a decision, he would need every point he could get.

After another minute of defensive stances, with Bokuto landing the occasional kick or jab, Kuroo makes an attempt at retaliation but Bokuto swerves him and lands another mighty punch that sends him right back to the floor. Bokuto leaps on top of him, cracking his forehead with an elbow that lacerates him above the eye. Kuroo flails around on the ground, his blood streaming down his face and risking blinding him in one eye, desperately trying to get away from the pressure Bokuto is putting on him. He wraps his legs around Bokuto’s waist, shifts his weight to throw him aside, grabs one wrist and begins to transition in to a submission attempt. Bokuto sees through it and keeps landing strikes to the downed Kuroo, but before he has any chance to land a knockout blow, the klaxon sounds and the first round comes to a close. Round one is decisively in Bokuto’s favour.

The pair both retreat to their corners awaiting tactical advice from their team of coaches.

“He’s countering everything you’re doing, Kuroo. You can’t beat the best kickboxer in the game on your feet. Stop spending the entire fight playing defence. You need to get him to the ground and make him tap. He’s stronger than you and a better striker than you. This fight is yours on the mat, so get the fight to the mat!” Kenma yells out his analysis of the fight as the rest of his team put bags of ice on his skin, while another attempts to clean the cut over his eye. The referee comes over with a doctor to investigate.

“How’s the bleeding? I can’t let this fight go on if you’re going to be blinded in one eye from the blood getting in it.”

Obviously his corner will do whatever it takes to keep the fight going, regardless of what the referee and the on-site doctor have to say about it. His team say he’s good to go. The referee acknowledges, but keeps a close eye on the situation over the rest of the fight. It was in his jurisdiction to declare Bokuto the winner if Kuroo wasn’t fit to compete.

The atmosphere was a lot calmer in Bokuto’s corner. Akaashi’s analysis of the fight could be briefly summarized with “Keep going and you’ll win. He’s not able handle you right now,” before telling him to rather brutally aim for Kuroo’s cut, try to make it worse, and force the referee to end the match.

 

The klaxon to mark the start of the second round plays mere seconds after the pair of fighters are rushed out of their corners and back to the centre of the octagon. Kuroo spends the first minute of the fight seeing if Bokuto is going to continue fighting the exact same way he was in the first round. He had a plan, based on Kenma’s advice, and needed to suss out Bokuto’s game plan before making a move. He starts with a few more leg kicks and the occasional jab, with Kuroo lulling him in to a false sense of security. Bokuto goes for another kick, and with Kuroo sensing it coming, grabs his leg and rushes Bokuto to the ground. He immediately latches his arms around Bokuto’s neck from behind, and locks his legs around his waist to limit his movement. Bokuto struggles to defend himself, trying his hardest to avoid letting Kuroo lock in a submission. Bokuto uses his free hands to try and beat the strength out of Kuroo, but with Kuroo holding him from behind, he’s not at an angle to land any sort of significantly damaging strikes. Kuroo is in his element, and all it would take is one mistake in the remaining time in the round for Bokuto to be choked out and put to sleep.

Kuroo’s energy levels drain quickly. After a brutal first round, mixed with blood loss, and being the aggressor for the entire of the second round, he was getting sapped incredibly quickly. The effort expelled trying to keep a man as strong as Bokuto locked in place, unable to escape, using just his own body, was immense. Every time Bokuto struggled harder, it took more effort from Kuroo to just lock in his hold even tighter.

“Sixty seconds left. You’ve got nothing to win the round Bokuto! You’re not going to take this one, just stall the clock and get him in the third round!” Akaashi offers his first change of game-plan from the trainers corner. Kuroo had put on all the pressure this round and Akaashi was right to say that damage limitation was the best force of action for now. After all, it was better to lose a round than lose a fight. For a championship, he had five rounds, and four other chances to win if he let one round slip.

Despite Kuroo’s best efforts, Bokuto successfully stalls the clock in defence mode and round two reaches its climax.

“He’s going to go for the leg kicks less now that he knows you can take him down with them. Expect his kicks to go higher and more flurries of punches. You need to start the round with an aggressive stance, back him against the cage and pressure him to the ground with some good strikes. It’s going to be tough against a top tier striker, but you have to.” Kenma’s insight was useful if not for the fact that Kuroo was exhausted. Applying all the pressure for another round, let alone the two that would come after it, was a massive ask. Even for a top tier fighter, he had never experienced a fight like this before.

“How’s the cut?” The referee checks in again. With Bokuto barely landing any significant strikes in the second round, the bleeding has slowed dramatically. The corner gives an okay sign and he lets him carry on.

“No more takedowns. He’s always going to beat you on the floor, Bokuto. Keep this on your feet and you win. More of the same from round one. You don’t need to give him so many chances to take you down. He won’t out-strike you. A few sporadic strikes will get the job done. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Akaashi’s rousing words spur Bokuto on the third round.

 

As Kuroo stumbles away from the stool in his corner, he feels his knees wobbling. The glaring difference between Kuroo and Bokuto’s fighting style was that Kuroo was having to expend obscene amounts of energy to control Bokuto and to defend from Bokuto. Bokuto, on the other hand, was for the most part able to just stand semi-stationary and land punches and kicks. It was taking a lot less out of him. The difference was abundantly clear in the third round.

Early on, Bokuto immediately rushes Kuroo with a flurry of punches, worsening the cut over his eye. Kuroo narrowly avoids falling to the floor using what little strength he had left to keep his legs planted firmly on the canvas. He had no idea how he could keep it up for two more rounds.

Kuroo eats another few kicks to his already bruised and aching legs, tries to counter it with another takedown, but can’t find the strength in him to haul Bokuto’s still relatively fresh body to the ground. He switches up his game-plan to try and conserve as much energy as possible. Even if they didn’t work out, he’d try to check every leg kick with a takedown. Even if it meant eating a few weaker punches, Kuroo would stay in guard to stop Bokuto landing any massive punches that catch him off guard.

The switch in fighting style worked for the vast majority of the round. Kuroo was losing on points but retaining his stamina to try and go for a finish in the 4th or 5th round, while Bokuto was happy to just win rounds and play for a decision. Kuroo wasn’t giving any openings despite being an exhausted fighter struggling to stand. It was an exhibition of his quality as a fighter, but there was only so much time he could last before something went wrong. It always did in fighting. You can’t predict every move a fighter will take over the course of 25 minutes, and eventually, Kuroo gets caught.

With Bokuto going for another leg kick, Kuroo goes for the takedown yet again, rushing in to Bokuto’s legs to try and sweep him on to the ground. However, Bokuto sees it coming, and as Kuroo dives to Bokuto’s legs in an attempt to grab them, Bokuto cracks Kuroo across the jaw with his knee, knocking him out. Kuroo collapses in to a limp heap in the middle of the floor and the referee dives in followed by the on-site doctor to make sure Kuroo is okay.

Rather than celebrating his knockout victory, Bokuto instead slides on to the ground next to Kuroo, watching as doctors try to wake him up. It was usual for fighters to only be out for a few seconds, and as Kuroo rouses, and doctors help him to sit up, a teary eyed Bokuto dives on to Kuroo, embracing him in the centre of the octagon, reassuring himself that he hasn’t hurt Kuroo too hard. The messy picture that was Kuroo’s face told a different story, with his eye swollen half shut and dried blood covering his face in a crimson mask, but he was awake and coherent and it was all over. That’s all that mattered to Bokuto.

He stands up and offers Kuroo a hand, hauling him to his unsure feet, then pulling him harder in to his arms. The pair sway slightly as Bokuto hugs Kuroo in a comforting embrace. Kuroo was barely able to process the fact he had just lost, and Bokuto didn’t care one bit about winning. The pair shut out the noise of the crowd entirely, the reactions of the trainers and doctors in and around the octagon, and stay at peace in each others arms.

Eventually the ring announcer re-enters the octagon to formally announce the winner. The pair step away from each other and the referee stands between, with one hand on either fighters wrist ready to raise the hand of the victor.

“This contest was stopped four minutes, thirty six seconds in the third round. The winner, by knockout, and still UFC Interim Middleweight Champion… Bokuto Koutarou!”

The referee raises Bokuto’s arm in victory, but he swipes it away, grabs Kuroo’s wrist and lifts his hand in victory instead. Bokuto wipes some blood off of Kuroo’s lips with the back of his hand and leans in for a kiss. All the drama Kuroo had manufactured prior to the fight was washed away in forgiveness.

“Promise me you’ll never make me kick your ass again.” Bokuto and Kuroo can’t stop themselves from breaking out in to broad smiles and laughter.

“You proved me wrong, so I’ve got nothing else left to prove here.” Kuroo resigns himself to staying on in his championship studded welterweight division.

Whether the result was influenced by Bokuto actually curtailing his lack of work ethic, Kuroo simply being outclassed by a better and heavier fighter, or the drama getting to Kuroo before the fight and throwing off his performance, it was Bokuto who had come out on top. Perhaps Kuroo had secretly wanted to lose just so he could be the one to spur Bokuto on in to new levels of greatness, even if his pride, and his unbeaten record, would be sacrificed in the process. Regardless, both men could go back to their respective divisions in stronger standing than before. Bokuto retained his interim championship, and would get a guaranteed title shot against the reigning middleweight champion once he returned. Kuroo, on the other hand, gave Bokuto one of the most competitive fights of his career, despite being from a weight class below him. Very few people managed to take down Bokuto, let alone win a round, let alone last three rounds. His loss did nothing to his credibility, and he would learn from the experience and continue to dominate his welterweight division. Most importantly, however, their differences had been put aside. Kuroo would have to wait a little while longer to see if Bokuto’s work ethic improved against every other fighter and not just because he was competing with him. Still, even if it meant being busted open and knocked unconscious, it was all worth it to see him flourish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Cici (@quietlyobscure) for beta reading the fic, Yazz (@blomozz) for the companioning art piece, and the entire Haikyuu!! Big Bang 2018 mod team for letting this happen.


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